


Passive Love

by stjaninaro



Category: Depeche Mode
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjaninaro/pseuds/stjaninaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d expected the usual; they'd start with a fight, a rough fuck, a quick goodbye. A standard night between them. That's not what he got.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passive Love

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal in January 2011.

***   
  
“I’m not looking for a pity fuck.”  
  
Alan didn’t bat an eyelid as the door was flung shut in his face. He caught it before it closed with a well placed foot. “Good. You weren’t getting one.”  
  
“Well why are you here then?”  
  
A raised eyebrow was all the response Alan gave.  
  
“I fucking hate you.”  
  
Alan smiled amusedly. “Of course you do.”  
  
“Go away.”  
  
“No”  
  
“Alan. Just fucking tell me what you want and fuck off!”  
  
“What I want? What I want is for you to sit down on that bed, and while you’re sober,” Alan’s lip curled into a sneer, “Or as  _sober_ as it’s possible for you to ever be, I want you to tell me what exactly your problem is. I’m sick of the fucking passive aggressive bullshit.”  
  
A slight pause.  
  
“Just fuck off and leave me alone Alan.”  
  
“I’m not leaving. I’m going to stand right here for as long as this takes. I’ve got all night.”  
  
“Enjoy yourself. I’m going to bed.”  
  
“Alone? Makes a change.”  
  
Alan chuckled at the black glare, one that would have had anyone else running for the door. He stepped towards the bed, stopping just within reach of the soft skin and ran the pad of his finger over the smooth cheeks. His hand was roughly slapped away.  
  
“Now now, Mart. Don’t be like that.”  
  
“Why won’t you just leave?”  
  
“Cos you don’t really want me to.”  
  
Alan blinked in surprise as Martin snorted.  
  
“You’re so fucking vain Alan. Do you really think just because a few pre-pubescent girls scream and throw their knickers at you, that you’re suddenly irresistible to the entirety of mankind?”  
  
A nasty sneer appeared on Alan’s face. “You’d know all about the pre-pubescent girls Martin.” He said, with a dark, angry laugh. “How old was the one last week? 15, 13?”  
  
Martin flew at him, ramming his fist into his face. The ring on his little finger caught and tore the delicate skin of Alan’s lip, painting his face with a bright red smear of blood. He didn’t stop there. As Alan’s hands reflexively went to his mouth, Martin took the opportunity to jam his knee high into Alan’s crotch, dropping him instantly to his knees.  
  
Breathing heavily, Martin stood back, hands still clenched in front of him, anticipating Alan’s retaliatory move. It took a while but Alan did finally look up, his eyes black with rage -though Martin could see the telltale glint of pain in the slightly watery edges.  
  
And then he suddenly smirked, wiping the trickle of blood from his chin. “Are you quite done?”   
  
Alan climbed gracefully to his feet, smoothing his shirt, and fixed Martin with an amused stare. “Feel better now?”  
  
Martin looked at him in silence for a few minutes, searching Alan’s expression for any hint that he was going to attack him. He slowly nodded and glanced away. “Yes.” He said quietly, his soft voice laced with defeat.  
  
“See, I told you the passive aggression wasn’t working.”  
  
Martin glared at the condescending smirk on Alan’s face, and had the uncontrollable urge to remove it with his fists. Again.   
  
Alan saw him ball his hands into fists, and before Martin could move an inch, Alan had him pinned to the bed, his wrists caught in Alan’s iron-like grasp. “I let you get one good hit in Mart, to get it out of your system. You want to hit me again you’ll have to work for it.”   
  
“Fuck you Alan” Martin spat, struggling wildly beneath him, “Why won’t you just fuck off  _and leave me alone?!_ ”  
  
“Because you  _still_ haven’t told me what the fucking problem is.” Alan had to resort to pressing his knee dangerously close to Martin’s crotch in his efforts to keep him restrained.  
  
“ _You_ are the fucking problem, you egotistical, arrogant cunt!” Martin spat, suddenly going very still beneath him, all the fight just evaporating from his body.  
  
Alan nodded. “Ok.” He said, “Now we’re getting somewhere. What have I done?”  
  
Martin turned to his head to the side, shaking it as he closed his eyes.  
  
“Come on Martin. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what I’ve done.” Alan growled exasperatedly, releasing his hold on Martin’s wrists and sitting up. Martin shook his head again, refusing to look at him. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.   
  
Alan stood up and paced across the room to the window. He stared out into the darkness, a deep frown marring his handsome face. Martin continued to lie motionless on the bed, eyes lightly closed. His lips parted slowly, and his tongue crept out to moisten the soft pink skin. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet Alan almost missed it.  
  
“I hate you so much sometimes that I sit up at night coming up with ways to make you want to leave.”  
  
Alan turned, his eyes widened in surprise. Whatever he had been expecting Martin to say, that was not it. “Excuse me?”  
  
Laughing softly, Martin opened his eyes. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “It’s true. And then there are the times I sit up all night thinking of ways to make sure you'll never walk away from me.” He smiled sadly, his gentle green eyes slipping down to meet Alan’s bewildered gaze. “I think those are the times I’m in love with you.”  
  
He sighed as Alan gasped. “But I can’t be sure.”  
  
“You’re in love with me?” Alan asked, his voice surprisingly breathless.  
  
“I  _think_ I’m in love with you, Alan. I don’t know for sure.”  
  
Sitting up, Martin fixed Alan with a contemplative stare. He reached out a hand to him. Alan took a few steps closer, and Martin gently grasped his hand in his, pulling him to sit on the bed beside him.  
  
“You wanted to know what my problem was.” Martin said, waiting for Alan to nod. The confusion was clear in his eyes. This wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d followed Martin here. He’d expected the usual; they'd start with a fight, a rough fuck, a quick goodbye. A standard night between them.  
  
Martin tilted his head to the side, resting it on Alan’s shoulder. “I’m jealous.”  
  
At this simple admission, Alan started. Jealous? Jealous of what?  
  
“I have no reason to be of course, it’s not like I’m saving myself just for you. I have just as many women as you do. It’s just...” Martin paused to consider his next words. “... You treat them differently to me. Gentler. Like they matter to you.”  
  
“And you’re jealous of that?” Alan asked, twisting around to look Martin in the eye. “Why?”  
  
Martin nodded. “Because you  _could_ love them. And I think I want you to love me instead.”  
  
“You  _think_?  
  
“I think.”  
  
They looked at each other for a short while, reading the others expression, and suddenly Alan understood. His fingers slid between Martin’s, clasping them gently. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile.  
  
“You think.” He repeated, leaning closer to Martin, his lips hovering a mere breath away from Martin’s mouth.  
  
“No.” Martin said. “I know.”  
  
And maybe Alan knew aswell.  
  
  
THE END


End file.
